Chapter Twenty-Two
“I t’s his birthday, but we’re the ones who get the presents.”
Raquel watched—stunned—as Father Lobo and Alexandre popped the trunk of the car and began removing shopping bags from it. Some boys—teenagers—appeared out of nowhere, and together they hauled the various bags she didn’t know occupied the trunk.
With great enthusiasm, the boys carried the bags to the small building which stood right next to the church, with Father Lobo leading the way while Alexandre chose to stay behind with her.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday today,” Raquel said, miffed that she was the last to know about his birthday.
He smiled indulgently at her. “Now you know.”
“Happy birthday,” she wished, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.
Alexandre, however, caught her around the waist and leaned in for another kiss—this time on her lips. Shaking her head, she tilted her head away, looking around surreptitiously. “Not in front of the kids,” she chided, drawing an amused chuckle from him.
“Is this how you’re going to be when our baby is born?”
She flushed.
Clasping her hand in his, he led her to the small building that was the orphanage, he explained. “I spend every birthday with these kids,” he told her, almost reluctantly, as though unwilling to reveal such an intimate detail about his life. “This is where I spent most of my time as a boy.”
Raquel looked quizzically at him. “You grew up in an orphanage?”
Hadn't he lived with his grandfather? Then why had Alexandre spent time at the orphanage?
He shook his head. “Not really.” He was quiet for a minute before he spoke. “I lived with Carlos at the mansion, but I had strict orders not to be seen. So I ended up spending my free time here. Lobo grew up here, too.”
“You are good friends?”
“He is my best friend.” Alexandre’s admission surprised her.
Father Lobo was an unassuming man—short and balding, with an easy smile and kind eyes.
It was hard to believe that a man of God was her husband’s best friend because Alexandre didn’t outwardly seem religious and wasn’t forbearing in particular.
What could an unrepentant playboy like Alexandre have in common with a priest?
Her lips twitched. “A priest is your best friend?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Don't be so judgmental. He might be a Padre by vocation, but he is very much a human being.”
She chuckled. “I would never have thought you’d even know a priest, much less have one as your friend.”
“Why? Deplorable rakes can’t be friends with priests? How do you think we pulled off a church wedding in two days? I know people,” he answered smugly, making her laugh.
At the orphanage, Alexandre took her to the visitors’ room where she met the two dozen children who were keenly waiting for them—and the presents.
He was received like an old friend—the boys hugging him warmly, while the girls greeted him with shy smiles.
One thing was obvious, however—the children loved him and thought the world of him.
The staff too, came to greet Alexandre, who in turn introduced Raquel to the group who clearly hero-worshiped him.
Soon, a lavish lunch followed, courtesy of Alexandre, one nun told Raquel softly as she served the food.
Raquel looked around the hall filled with children and staff who all looked well cared for. There were smiles on everyone’s faces and not one person had a bad thing to say about her husband.
After the meal, she chose to sit outside, under a huge gulmohar tree heavy with orange flowers, watching her husband play football with the children.
They formed two groups—one led by Father Lobo and the other, captained by Alexandre.
Football, otherwise known as soccer, was a very popular sport in Goa, enjoyed just as much as cricket, perhaps more. So it was only natural that the children chose to play football on a beautiful summer day with the cool breeze providing just enough relief to an otherwise hot, humid day.
She watched with disbelief and—rapt adoration, her husband became one with the children, chasing after the ball, issuing orders, taking control of the game, kicking and passing the ball along so they could score a goal.
Father Lobo was just as competitive, and it was obvious to her that the two men admired each other greatly because when one scored a goal, the other congratulated, not caring they were on opposing teams.
She, however, couldn’t take her eyes off Alexandre.
She’d never seen him so happy before—a radiant smile on his face, his face flushed with exertion, sweat dripping down his face as he chased the ball.
He argued and laughed with the children, kept an easy banter with Father Lobo, and looked like he was having the time of his life with a group of children other rich men wouldn’t be quite so comfortable around.
Charity anyone could do, but spending time with the less privileged? It took a special man to dedicate one whole day to young children who clearly needed a good role model in their lives. And he was a good role model, Raquel acknowledged proudly.
To the world, Alexandre was an ambitious businessman, an unforgiving foe, and an unrepentant playboy, but to these children, he represented what they could be if they put their hearts and souls into achieving their goals—a success story.
A man who achieved unbelievable success all due to sheer determination and hard work.
Her heart began to pound heavily inside her as emotion clogged her throat. Pride filled her and another feeling, terrifyingly like love, began to flood her as she watched him play alongside these unfortunate children who had been abandoned by their loved ones.
She observed how he treated them as his equal, never once looking down on them. Instead, he was like an older brother—indulgent and inspiring, and rebuking when someone did something wrong.
“He is a good man, your husband.”
Raquel tore her eyes off Alexandre and looked at the nun who came to sit beside her on the stone bench. A group of little girls played with the orange gulmohar flowers which littered the ground, all under the watchful eye of Sister Clarice who looked curiously at her.
“I call him our patron saint,” Sister Clarice said affectionately, and Raquel knew immediately that the older woman admired Alexandre.
“He’s eager and willing to help us. No matter what our needs are, Alexandre is always ready to help.
But money isn't everything, you know. These children appreciate the time he spends with them.”
Raquel sat in silent awe as the nun continued to speak highly of Alexandre.
“I’ve prayed for him to find a good woman for years, and God has finally answered my prayers.” The elderly woman searched her face—accessing her.
Raquel didn’t know how to respond to the nun’s comment, so she smiled.
“You are good for him. He looks happy, and content.”
“He seems happy with the children,” Raquel replied, glancing at Alexandre when a loud cheer announced the scoring of a goal.
“He is always happy with the children, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.” Her attention returned to the matronly woman who was watching her closely.
“It is obvious you care for him.”
“He is a good man,” she answered, blushing.
Sister Clarice nodded. “Yes. And I can see you are a good woman. He deserves a woman like you. Someone to love him, and care for him.”
Love?
Raquel frowned. “But Alexandre doesn’t need love.”
The nun clucked her tongue. “Everyone needs love, especially Alexandre who’s never had it in his life.”
Curious to know what Sister Clarice meant by that statement, she asked, “Have you known him long?”
“Yes, since he came to live on the island at the age of twelve,” the nun said. “He was such a good boy but confused and lost. Abandoned by his mother and unloved by his father, he’s craved love ever since. And you—” the sister looked pointedly at her, “—are the answer to his prayers.”
“I don’t think my husband is a praying man,” Raquel replied.
“Prayers come in various forms,” the nun remarked. “Often, the most sincere and powerful prayers are wordless. If someone doesn't visit church, it doesn't mean he does not pray. Look at him.”
She had no recourse but to follow the nun’s instruction.
“Alexandre comes here because he knows what these children experience. He feels their pain—their loss. And he desires to be loved, just as much as these children want to be loved. Like them, he too is lonely and craves human affection.”
Ashamed that she was quick to judge her husband, Raquel looked away. But she acknowledged the nun’s words.
Although Alexandre had never told her about his past, she knew there were things about his childhood which bothered him. He was tight-lipped about his past, and guarded his emotions closely, never letting anyone see the real man behind the sybarite tycoon that everyone knew him to be.
“Our relationship... it didn’t start the conventional way,” she confessed to the nun.
“I know. I was shocked by the news of your wedding, like everyone else. But I see it as God’s plan.”
Raquel deceived her fiancé, shamed her family when she’d slept with Alexandre, surely it wasn't God’s plan—or was it?
“I can see that you are falling in love with him.”
A choked gasp escaped Raquel as her eyes flew to the nun, who watched her with knowing eyes.
“Although,” the older woman muttered, “you don’t seem to have realized it yourself.”
She loved Alexandre? No, she didn’t—or did she?
Her brow creased as her heart began to thud manically in her chest, blood pounding in her veins as the nun’s words swirled around in her brain.
Was she really falling for her husband? Hadn't these past couple of days been absolute bliss—especially with Alexandre taking time off so he could spend more time with her?
After consummating their marriage, their relationship had taken a drastic turn, with Alexandre becoming a kind and attentive husband, waiting on her, fulfilling every desire of hers, both in and out of bed.
They’d spend days travelling the state and had even managed a three-day honeymoon in the Maldives.
And while he’d managed to sneak in a business meeting or two, hadn't she loved his otherwise undivided attention?
She loved how he took care of her every need and was quick to indulge her every whim.
She loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up beside him.
Didn’t she loathe being away from him, and hadn't she begun to spend time in the home-office reading on the sofa while he worked just so she could be physically close to him? Didn't her eyes always seek him out in a crowd? Didn’t her heart rejoice when he took her in his arms and kissed her?
Was the desire to spend every minute with Alexandre an indication of love?
Was it love that made her heart gallop when she opened her eyes and saw his face first thing in the morning?
Was it love that made their lovemaking no more just an explosive coming together of two hungry bodies, but a more spiritual experience that had her weeping every time she came apart in his arms?
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel panicky at the thought of falling in love with Alexandre. Instead, she was filled with an exquisite feeling—a mix of joy and hope, which calmed her thudding heart and cleared her mind.
Perhaps falling in love with her husband wouldn't be so bad after all.